The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer (english novels for students .txt) 📕

bed of geranium and heliotrope, and plunged in among the bushes and under the elms. Away on the left I heard Edwards shouting, and Eltham’s answering voice.

“Denby!” I cried, and yet louder: “Denby!”

But the silence fell again.

Dusk was upon Redmoat now, but from sitting in the twilight my eyes had grown accustomed to gloom, and I could see fairly well what lay before me. Not daring to think what might lurk above, below, around me, I pressed on into the midst of the thicket.

“Vernon!” came Eltham’s voice from one side.

“Bear more to the right, Edwards,” I heard Nayland Smith cry directly ahead of me.

With an eerie and indescribable sensation of impending disaster upon me, I thrust my way through to a gray patch which marked a break in the elmen roof. At the foot of the copper beech I almost fell over Eltham. Then Smith plunged into view. Lastly, Edwards the gardener rounded a big rhododendron and completed the party.

We stood quite still for a moment.

A faint breeze whispered through the beech leaves.

“Where is he?”

I cannot remember who put it into words; I was too dazed with amazement to notice. Then Eltham began shouting:

“Vernon! Vernon! Vernon!”

His voice pitched higher upon each repetition. There was something horrible about that vain calling, under the whispering beech, with shrubs banked about us cloaking God alone could know what.

From the back of the house came Caesar’s faint reply.

“Quick! Lights!” rapped Smith. “Every lamp you have!”

Off we went, dodging laurels and privets, and poured out on to the lawn, a disordered company. Eltham’s face was deathly pale, and his jaw set hard. He met my eye.

“God forgive me!” he said. “I could do murder tonight!”

He was a man composed of strange perplexities.

It seemed an age before the lights were found. But at last we returned to the bushes, really after a very brief delay; and ten minutes sufficed us to explore the entire shrubbery, for it was not extensive. We found his revolver, but there was no one there⁠—nothing.

When we all stood again on the lawn, I thought that I had never seen Smith so haggard.

“What in Heaven’s name can we do?” he muttered. “What does it mean?”

He expected no answer; for there was none to offer one.

“Search! Everywhere,” said Eltham hoarsely.

He ran off into the rose garden, and began beating about among the flowers like a madman, muttering: “Vernon! Vernon!” For close upon an hour we all searched. We searched every square yard, I think, within the wire fencing, and found no trace. Miss Eltham slipped out in the confusion, and joined with the rest of us in that frantic hunt. Some of the servants assisted too.

It was a group terrified and awestricken which came together again on the terrace. One and then another would give up, until only Eltham and Smith were missing. Then they came back together from examining the steps to the lower gate.

Eltham dropped on to a rustic seat, and sank his head in his hands.

Nayland Smith paced up and down like a newly caged animal, snapping his teeth together and tugging at his ear.

Possessed by some sudden idea, or pressed to action by his tumultuous thoughts, he snatched up a lantern and strode silently off across the grass and to the shrubbery once more. I followed him. I think his idea was that he might surprise anyone who lurked there. He surprised himself, and all of us.

For right at the margin he tripped and fell flat. I ran to him.

He had fallen over the body of Denby, which lay there!

Denby had not been there a few moments before, and how he came to be there now we dared not conjecture. Mr. Eltham joined us, uttered one short, dry sob, and dropped upon his knees. Then we were carrying Denby back to the house, with the mastiff howling a marche funèbre.

We laid him on the grass where it sloped down from the terrace. Nayland Smith’s haggard face was terrible. But the stark horror of the thing inspired him to that, which conceived earlier, had saved Denby. Twisting suddenly to Eltham, he roared in a voice audible beyond the river:

“Heavens! we are fools! Loose the dog!”

“But the dog⁠—” I began.

Smith clapped his hand over my mouth.

“I know he’s crippled,” he whispered. “But if anything human lurks there, the dog will lead us to it. If a man is there, he will fly! Why did we not think of it before. Fools, fools!” He raised his voice again. “Keep him on leash, Edwards. He will lead us.”

The scheme succeeded.

Edwards barely had started on his errand when bells began ringing inside the house.

“Wait!” snapped Eltham, and rushed indoors.

A moment later he was out again, his eyes gleaming madly. “Above the moat,” he panted. And we were off en masse round the edge of the trees.

It was dark above the moat; but not so dark as to prevent our seeing a narrow ladder of thin bamboo joints and silken cord hanging by two hooks from the top of the twelve-foot wire fence. There was no sound.

“He’s out!” screamed Eltham. “Down the steps!”

We all ran our best and swiftest. But Eltham outran us. Like a fury he tore at bolts and bars, and like a fury sprang out into the road. Straight and white it showed to the acclivity by the Roman ruin. But no living thing moved upon it. The distant baying of the dog was borne to our ears.

“Curse it! he’s crippled,” hissed Smith. “Without him, as well pursue a shadow!”

A few hours later the shrubbery yielded up its secret, a simple one enough: A big cask sunk in a pit, with a laurel shrub cunningly affixed to its movable lid, which was further disguised with tufts of grass. A slender bamboo-jointed rod lay near the fence. It had a hook on the top, and was evidently used for attaching the ladder.

“It was the end of this ladder which Miss Eltham saw,” said Smith, “as he trailed it behind him into the